long as I remember.”

“Well, perceptions change with time. You haven't been back for a while, remember?”

Kate gave a small smile. Was that a gentle dig directed at her? “Work keeps

me busy. Climbing the corporate ladder and all.”

She glanced around the well-appointed room, sprinkled with reading

material and tasteful antiques. She recognized some of the items from Carol's orchard house. “The house looks great.”

Carol returned a smile. “Well, it keeps me busy. Lots to dust. Between this,

the Community Center, and my sewing group, I never have a lack of anything to

do.”

Kate remembered Carol's sewing hobby. “Do you still get together with your

sewing buddies?”

“Oh, yes—weekly, here at the house. There's twelve of us now.” She smiled

impishly. “We call ourselves the Thread Heads.”

Kate laughed. “Well, as long as you're staying out of trouble.”

Carol's eyebrows arched giving her face an innocent look. “Oh, we do. Most

of the time.” She leaned forward. “Oh, Katie. It's so good to see you.”

“You too, Carol.” It really was.

Carol straightened a doily on the table. “From what your mother says, it sounds like you're doing very well.”

“Pretty well.”

“And you're going to do some work out at Nitrovex?”

“That's the plan. My company does corporate branding makeovers.” She thought she'd better explain. “That means we talk to companies and find out what they're about, then come up with new logos, letterhead, slogans, that sort of thing. It's kind of like when you get a makeover.”

Carol smiled. “Haven't had one of those in a while.”

“With your natural beauty? You don't need one.”

That got a dismissive hand wave. “Oh, shush. Well, with that kind of

buttering up I'm sure you'll do just fine at your job.”

Kate sighed. “I hope so. It's my first crack at a big account. Nitrovex has grown a lot.” Not that she knew much about what the company actually made,

despite her parents once working there. She could count the times she'd visited

them on two hands. That and a mind-numbing field trip for eighth grade science

were the only times she'd set foot in the place.

“Yes, John Wells has done wonders with that company. Always had a good

head on his shoulders.”

Kate arched her eyebrows. “Carol. Are you shopping around?”

Her friend caught her tone. “Oh, you. Behave. John's just an old friend. His

wife passed away just a few years ago.”

“Oh.” She hadn't seen that in any of the Nitrovex materials. She'd liked Mrs. Wells, despite what happened at the Scholarship Fair. “You have any…

other friends?” she probed. “Does Wally the mailman still deliver here?”

“If you mean male friends, then yes, of course, I'm acquainted with some of

the men around here.” Carol fussed with a button on her sleeve. “And, yes, Wally is still around and no, he's not my type. I hope you didn't come here just to grill me about my love life.”

“Really?” Kate said, ignoring her. She crossed her arms, enjoying this little

teasing session. “So, who is your type these days? Jock? Policeman? Painter?

Scientist?”

“Let's talk about you,” Carol said quickly. “Boyfriend?”

Kate interlaced her fingers across her knee. “Nope. I'm as free as you are, apparently.”

“Good. I mean, that's nice.” Carol seemed to be distracted by something outside the side window. Then she stood. “Here. Let's get your bag upstairs. I figured you'd want your old room?”

Oh, geez, her old room. Kate could still picture the dopey sunflower curtains

she'd begged her parents for and the “My Little Pony” mural she'd plastered on

the slanted ceiling. Lovely. She picked up her bag. “I guess so.”

“I painted it last fall. Hope that's okay?”

Kate shrugged. Starlight Pony gone? Good riddance. “It's your house.

Besides, everything changes sometime, right?”